


How To Become An Urban Legend

by athingofvikings



Series: How To Change A Destiny (HTTYD Urban Fantasy AU) [1]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Astrid is thirsty, Fae Hiccup, Faecup, Future Hiccstrid, Modern AU, Multi, Pre-Hiccstrid, Vampire Astrid, Vampstrid, urban fantasy au, vampire romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-12 20:09:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17474180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athingofvikings/pseuds/athingofvikings
Summary: Hiccup is the quarter-human son of the great Fae lord, Stoick, and has ventured out to see the human world against his father’s wishes–even pointing out that his human blood and affinity for iron makes him essentially immune to most of the risks.  And he wants to see what’s out there.  So he does, and is enchanted by human civilization.  So much creativity, so much creation…Astrid has been a vampire for longer than she would have ever lived naturally, and at this point, she’s somewhat inured to the horror of her existence—the political dance among the vampires being a welcome distraction.  She is known as one of the rising stars among the younger set, more adept at moving in this more fast-paced world, and has a lot of jealous rivals.  But she remembers—distantly—what it was to have human passions and, in the quiet of the night sometimes, she mourns them.One night, Hiccup is at the club, drinking in the emotions of the crowd and ends up dancing with this gorgeous woman.  But not all is as it seems...Episode 1 of How To Change A Destiny (HTTYD Urban Fantasy AU series)





	1. Chapter 1

**How To Become An Urban Legend**

Hearing the footsteps at his bedroom door, Hiccup froze before slumping. 

“Hi Mom,” he said, not even bothering to turn around. 

His mother’s voice was amused and ever so slightly exasperated.  “So… what’s this?”

“What’s what?” Hiccup asked, turning and trying to hide the rucksack that sat half-filled on the bed. 

Leaning against the intricately carved doorpost, his mother had her arms crossed, and her eyes—green and slit like a cat’s—were filled with amusement. 

“Well, I’d say that it looks like you plan on leaving,” she said, striding forward and looking over the assembled sticks of rowan and rue, oak and ash, bundles of spidersilk and moon-shadow. 

Hiccup shrugged and sighed.  “I asked Dad _again_ if I can go to the human realm, and he turned me down, _again!”_

Valka sighed fondly and patted him on the shoulder.  “You know it’s because he cares about you, son.”

“Cares about me, as his _son!_   Sure!  But I’ve been _stuck_ here for decades, and I’m quarter-human!  I should be allowed to see at least _something_ out of my heritage!  But nooooo, I have to stay cooped up in Arcadia and attend boring Court function after Court function while Snotlout and the twins ping-pong their way around mortal society!”  He’d gotten some ping-pong balls in his cousin’s last package, and had played with them until they’d worn out too much for even his magic to fix.  “I _need_ to see it!  See these things that they talk about, for myself!”

With a fond hand, Valka mussed his hair and then palmed his cheek.  “Then go.  Promise me you’ll be safe.”

“Of course!” Hiccup said, leaning into her touch as he grinned.  His mother—his _half-human_ mother—would understand the urges and wants to see and wander that her blood brought, much more than his pure fae father would ever comprehend. 

With a grin, Valka whistled.  “Toothless!”

Up in the rafters, the fairy-dragon was sunning himself underneath the skylight, but then looked down at the pair of them.  _[What?]_

“You’re going with him, aren’t you?”

 _[I could be convinced,]_ the black dragon commented with a haughty air. 

Hiccup scoffed at his best friend and familiar.  “Oh, like you haven’t been half of the push at times!”

_[And I’d push more, if your suggested disguise was… bigger.]_

“For the last time, we’re _not_ disguising you as a panther!” Valka said with a laugh.  “The idea is to _not_ draw attention to yourself!”

 _[But a black_ housecat? _I have my pride!]_

“How about a Maine Coon?” Valka offered as Hiccup continued to toss reagents and personal items into the rucksack.

_[What’s that?]_

“The largest breed of housecat, oh, and they have thumbs.”

Toothless perked up at that.  _[Thumbs?]_

“Technically polydactylism,” Valka said, sharing a knowing glance with Hiccup, who snickered, “but it wouldn’t be hard for the extra digit to have a bit more play in it than would be strictly _natural._ ”

Hiccup scoffed.  Natural.  Right.  Like a black dragon the size of a truck would be _natural_ in the human realm. 

_[Hmm.  Can you show me what they look like?]_

Valka gave a fond sigh and reached over to Hiccup’s pile of absconded reagents.  “May I, son?”

“Go for it, Mom,” he said cheerfully.

She plucked some dried oak leaves, a bundle of spun cloud, and a small spool of moonlight out of the pile and wove them together for a moment between her hands, her tongue stuck between her lips in focus. 

Hiccup watched as she worked; her talents for magic were weaker compared to a full-blood fae, but her creativity helped her get around such limitations.  She fiddled and played with the stuff of dreams, and Hiccup felt the moment when she unspooled a small portion of her own internal reserves of magic, her _Wyrd,_ and infused it into the working.  There was a shimmer and suddenly a gossamer illusion of a cuddly black cat was walking and prancing about in the air above her spread hands. 

Toothless gracefully hopped down from the rafters to give it a closer inspection. 

“That’s life size, by the way,” Valka offered. 

Toothless leaned in and huffed.  _[Still a bit on the small size, isn’t it?]_

“Come on, bud, you need a disguise to protect you from iron,” Hiccup said, tossing in a small bundle of goblin fruit; by now, the rucksack should have been bulging, but Hiccup had convinced it that it had more space inside than the outside would suggest.

“And bullets,” Valka added soberly. 

Hiccup glanced at her, irked.  “I thought you supported this!  Now you’re sounding like Dad!”

She sighed.  “I _do_ support this.  You should get the chance to actually see the world that part of you came from, and see it for yourself, instead of as part of a guided tour.  But just because I want you to see it doesn’t mean that I can’t acknowledge that there _are_ dangers.”  She turned back to Toothless and dismissed the illusion.  “Hence the need for a _low profile._ ”

Toothless drooped his head and gave a moan.  _[Fine, fine.  I reserve the right to spit hairballs on Hiccup’s pillow and into his shoes, though.]_

“You’d do that anyway!”

 _[It’s rude to make unfounded accusations about your friends’ conduct!]_ Toothless replied, sticking his nose up in the air and fondly thwacking Hiccup on the back with his tail.  _[And what about him?  Doesn’t he need a disguise too?  Or do humans come with pointy ears and cat-eyes these days?]_

Hiccup scoffed.  “I’m a lot less vulnerable to iron than you are, bud, but since you asked…” he said, and played with the amulet on his necklace; he shimmered for a moment, like he was being seen in a reflection in a foggy mirror, and then snapped back into focus.  “How’s this, you useless reptile?” he said, presenting himself for inspection.

Both Toothless and his mother looked him over, and Hiccup spun in place.

Valka was trying not to laugh as he turned back to face her. 

“What?”

“We last took you there… it was the seventies, wasn’t it?  Or the eighties?”

Hiccup self-consciously fixed the collar of the leather jacket that had replaced his tunic.  “I like the style!” 

Still obviously fighting down a laugh, his mother grinned and patted his cheek.  “Yes, and it’s very flattering on you.  But… well… if anyone asks where your bike is, say you ride one of Harley’s.”

“Who is Harley?” Hiccup asked, confused.

Valka burst out laughing. 

“What?”

.o0O0o.

“Another one,” Astrid said to the bartender, motioning to the shot glass she’d just drained.

The mortal man glanced at her, and the line of glasses in front of her.  “Keys,” he said, extending his hand and opening and closing it. 

Rolling her eyes, Astrid pulled her car keys out of her purse and slapped them into his hand.  It was good to be treated like just another mortal, just another person who _couldn’t_ feel the effects of alcohol without _letting_ herself, one that _couldn’t_ burn the booze out of her system with a moment’s effort and an expenditure of blood. 

Mortal was good.

The glass of amber liquid was set in front of her, and she picked it up and considered it for a moment. 

Whiskey. 

She remembered hearing once from some of the elders that the name came from the Gaelic word for _water of life._   Well, she was older than the liquid in her hand, and hadn’t been technically _alive_ since it had been bottled most of a century ago. 

Downing the glass in a single swallow, she felt the liquid burn down into her gullet. 

“Bad breakup?” the bartender asked, sympathetic.

Astrid shook her head.  “Nah.  It’s my birthday.”  Her hundredth, to be precise, since she’d come screaming into the world from a woman now dead for over half a century. 

And she didn’t look a day over twenty-eight. 

She couldn’t.

The bartender gave her a skeptical look, but nodded.  “Well, whatever memories you’re trying to erase, I’d suggest a therapist instead of Black Label.”

She snickered.  “I thought that bartenders doubled as therapists?”

“Nah, my degree’s in English Lit,” the fellow said with a smile.  “Look, I’ll fix you something to eat, so you have something else in your stomach aside from the booze, all right?”

She shook her head.  “No, I’m good.  Thank you, though.” 

He shrugged.  “All right.  Suit yourself.”

He turned to another of the few remaining customers still in the bar before last call, and Astrid breathed a covert sigh of relief.  Liquids… she could still handle.  Mostly. 

But solid food had been lost to her years ago.

She picked up one of the empty glasses and considered it.

She hadn’t been lying.  A hundred years ago today, she’d been born.  World War One had ended only a year or so before, and her father had come back from Europe.  She’d toddled her way through the Roaring Twenties, dealt with poverty during the Depression, found a man and then lost him to the maws of war in Europe while she’d riveted together planes and tanks.

Then she’d rebelled against the tightening restrictions and expectations after the war.  She’d lost her job when the GIs returned, and tried to find something other than “secretary” and “housewife” to _be._

And she’d been noticed.

Some nights, like tonight, she wondered what she would have become if her sire hadn’t noticed her, hadn’t admired the “inner fire” that he’d said had attracted him to her. 

Hadn’t offered to remake her.

And if she hadn’t accepted.

She wondered.

He hadn’t told her _everything_ , of course.  At first, it had seemed like a pure blessing!  Strength, speed, agility, acuity of the senses… all in exchange for an aversion to daylight and the need to drink blood to keep herself going.

The true cost had become apparent to her over the years.  She’d lost the ability to stomach solid foods without effort in the eighties and entirely about ten years ago, sunlight burned more now than it had, and her body temperature, unless she took care to maintain it, was dropping as well—and so was her depth of emotional response, growing colder in both meanings of the phrase as time went on.  From what she’d heard from whispers and rumor, in another forty or fifty years, anything other than blood might be denied to her as well without an effort, and she’d almost certainly start picking up aversions and weaknesses soon…

She checked her watch. 

Five hours to sunrise.

For a moment, just a brief moment of weakness, she considered it.  She’d lived longer than she had any right to, and there was blood on her hands. 

With an effort, she pulled herself back from that line of thinking.  It was seductive, dangerous.  The Elders all had fancy names for it, but she and the other vampires of her generation used human pop culture to name it.  Ennui.  Sunrise walk.  Final Death. 

But she couldn’t.  She had people—real, actual, human people and some others whose definitions were more… fluid—depending on her for their protection.  Unlike some, who reveled in their monstrosity, she tried to do the right thing. 

She ignored the little voice that added in the back of her mind, _for now._

But she also knew that that was the coward’s way out.  And that it was a real problem in her kind’s society.  She’d seen others who couldn’t handle it any longer—usually the decent ones. 

And that left the monsters.

She pulled out her phone and looked at the picture on the screen, of her friend, lover and servitor for over forty years.

Besides, if she took her own life, it wasn’t just some theoretical people that _might_ get hurt.

It would be people like Cami, who would grow old and die without her.  It was the people threatened by others like Dagur, who hadn’t earned his nickname of ‘the Deranged’ for no reason.  It was still a not so minor miracle he hadn’t breached the Masquerade—a borrowed pop culture term that Astrid adored and the elders loathed—by now with his antics.

No.  She’d make it through this night, and all of the nights following. 

Even as part of her quailed at the rigid stasis that her unlife seemed to be in, every night much the same…

But it was that or oblivion.  Things wouldn’t just _change_ for no reason!

She reclaimed her keys from the dubious bartender, paid her bill, winced at how much she’d drunk in her centennial ennui, and left the bar.  Better to spend the rest of the night in Cami’s arms than in the bottle, that much was for sure.

But she had no illusions left.  This was her existence now.  And the spark of human passion seemed to gutter more dimly with each passing year, and she had no idea how to reignite it—or if that was even possible.

.o0O0o.

The old rusty gate had probably once had a fence attached to it.  Once.  But that had been a long time ago. Now it stood alone in the middle of a clearing, ten to twenty feet of open grass on either side of it, the gate itself hanging open between two weather-beaten wooden posts.  There was a rusty sign attached to it, reading _Keep Closed._

Then a spectral, disembodied hand seemed to reach out from behind the gate and push it open.

The hand belonged to Hiccup.  He and Toothless emerged like ghosts through the lonely gate into the empty field, chatting as they seemed to solidify as they walked past the edge of the gate.

“All right, all right, I bow before your superior navigational skills!”

_[And if you’d listened to me sooner, we’d have been out here hours ago!]_

“I was following the path!”

 _[Path?  Path!?]_   Toothless spread his wings, affronted.  _[Which of the two of us can actually get from point to point without bothering with feet?]_

“You know as well as I do that doesn’t _work_ in the border realms.  You have to follow a path to get out, or you can get lost in the thorns!”

 _[I can still fly_ above _them!]_

“Yeah, well, I’d rather avoid a hedge-witch’s curse because we accidentally strayed above her demesne, thanks, bud.”

_[You’re no fun.]_

The pair of them reached the edge of the clearing, and turned back to look at the gate… just to make sure that nothing had followed them out. 

 _[Out of curiosity,]_ Toothless asked as they watched the gateway to the border realm fade away, _[did you have a plan if something_ did _follow us out?  Or was that going to be my responsibility?]_

“Well, you _are_ the guy who breathes _fire,_ ” Hiccup sassed, “but no, I brought at least _something_ that would help.”  He pulled the sword hilt from his belt and ignited the fire blade.

 _[Are you_ still _obsessed with that Star Wars movie?]_

“Hey!  My parents took me to see the third movie in theaters, _twice,_ last time I was out here!  Excuse me for having a fondness for it!” Hiccup protested as he extinguished the blade and put the hilt away. 

_[Nope.  There’s no excuse.  You know, I heard they made new ones.]_

“Well, I want to go see them.  I want to go see _everything!_ ” Hiccup said gleefully, looking around and seeing a distinct lack of human development.  A lot of trees, though.  “Oak and ash, where are we?”

_[Upstate New York, whatever that means.]_

“How far is it to New York City?”

Toothless cocked his head in thought, and Hiccup could feel him using his own magics.  _[About two hundred and fifty miles due south,]_ his bud finally said.  _[Oof.  I shouldn’t have listened to that goblin when he told us which fork to take…]_

“Hmmm?  _Hmmm?_   What was that I just heard?” Hiccup asked cheerfully, with even the distance Toothless was reporting not really impacting his euphoria at _finally_ being out here without a minder—beyond his best bud, who was nearly as bad a daredevil and explorer as he was!

Humorously irritated, Toothless feinted a whack at Hiccup’s head with his paw, and then knocked his friend’s feet out from under him with a swipe of his tail.  Hiccup hit the grass and burst out laughing as Toothless started to jokingly bat at him, the two of them bantering back and forth, with that ending with Toothless having pinned Hiccup under his head, the pair of them laughing themselves sick.

Finally, though, Hiccup hauled himself out from under the dragon.  “So, ready to see the world, bud?”

 _[I suppose,]_ he said jocularly, and shook himself, giving that gummy grin of his in his enthusiasm. _[I do know that, for whatever reason, I’m supposed to tell you that the emergency exits are over the sides and that the peanuts and pretzels aren’t complimentary.]_

“Huh?”

 _[Your mother has a_ strange _sense of humor,]_ Toothless said as Hiccup climbed up on his back and settled into the saddle. 

“This is news to you _now?_ ”

With a powerful wingbeat, Toothless took to the air and they rose into the skies.  The lights of some small nearby towns immediately became apparent in the growing gloom of the oncoming night, and Hiccup felt his heart sing at the sight.  They were here!  And his mother had given him five years to bounce around and explore before coming home, and he planned on using every _day_ of it!

“Ready, bud?”

 _[Yep!]_   His wings started to beat faster and faster, and Hiccup felt the wind start to tear at him.  Then Toothless asked conversationally, _[So, if the city is called the Big Apple, are there other food-related cities out there?]_

“No idea!” Hiccup said, holding on tight.

_[Can we find out?]_

“Sure, but why?”

_[I want to know if there’s a Big Salmon.  Or at least a Little Salmon.  I’m not picky.]_

Hiccup laughed as the landscape flew by underneath, the lights of roads and towns and cities growing as night came on. 

They were here.  A whole world of artifice and creation, and they were finally _here!_


	2. Chapter 2

 

The beat of the DJ’s bass was like the heartbeat she no longer had. 

Astrid danced and moved through the club, having done this more times than she could count, back to when she’d still been breathing.  Then it had been for fun, having what had turned out to be her last dance with her love before he’d shipped off for war.

Now it was for sustenance.

This particular club was a modern techno dance club, drawing a moderately sized crowd of New Yorkers.  In terms of ambiance, it was about par; the DJ knew what he was doing, but the speaker system he was using had seen better days.  Although, to be fair, most people didn’t have anywhere near as good hearing as she did.  Still, the dance floor had heavy wear, and she could see paint patches on the wall where the owner had obviously skimped on repair costs, undoubtedly thinking that nobody would see it in the club’s normal lighting.  And, again, to be fair… most people weren’t her.

But she wasn’t here for the music.

She was here for blood.

Getting in past the bouncer had been easy; she was wrapped in an attractive dress that Cami had found for her that really left very little to the imagination, and he’d let her in without hesitation.  And while it was no Studio 54, where she’d met Cami all those decades ago, it was lively enough to suit her purposes.

And… if she moved to the beat of the bass, she could pretend, just for a moment, that it was her own heartbeat driving her.

A hand touched her, and she turned to look at the man who’d taken the opportunity for a grope; he leered at her, booze reeking on his breath.  Disgusted, she flashed a fang in response, adding a touch of presence to the effect.  He stumbled back, startled, but too drunk to really understand what he’d seen.

As she moved back to dancing in time with the music, she considered for a moment if what she’d done was wise and then mentally shrugged.  Yes, she wasn’t here for the party, and he would have been comically easy to feed off of, but she wasn’t desperate… and she’d learned the hard way that paying attention to such men encouraged them—and then they got possessive when they saw her with someone else.  _One_ bar brawl between two men she’d fed upon was her limit per decade, thank you very much!

No, if she was going to feed, she’d at least be somewhat picky about who she’d be seducing for a quick bit of necking in the corner.  If nothing else, it was her way of maintaining some self respect… and respect for the people she was parasiting.  She’d heard rumors about Prince Drago’s feeding habits, and they made her feel colder…

Shoving the thought to the side, she continued to dance, enjoying the feel of the crowd around her.  Maybe a likely person—male or female, she wasn’t picky in _that_ regard—would present themselves, but for now, she could at least try to enjoy the moment.

She’d gone through two more songs and a few dance partners, at least one of which had some actual dancing talent, enough that she’d enjoyed moving with him before he’d moved off, before she spotted the odd man out.

He was tall, attractive, with dark red hair and green eyes that seemed to glow oddly, but she chalked that up to the club’s pulsing lighting.  And he was standing up against the wall, watching avidly, seeming like he was drinking it all in. 

But his clothing stood out, too; while she would have pegged him in his middle twenties, the jacket and jeans seemed like they were out of the nineteen eighties.  And while, sure, she ran into period enthusiasts and those who couldn’t update their wardrobes all the time, he still stuck out. 

But he wasn’t another vampire; she could tell that much easily.  She could smell him from where she was, and, as far as she could tell, he was mortal—although his scent intrigued her.  While most of the men in the room wore colognes and deodorants of varying intensities, efficacies and enjoyability, he seemed to have a scent all his own.  Leather, the wind after a rain, and something… else. 

Intrigued, she drifted over to him.  “Want to dance?” she asked as he looked her over.

.o0O0o.

Hiccup was entranced by this place.  It was _amazing._   Such intensity, such _passion,_ such _joy…_

He and Toothless had been in New York for a few weeks, and it had been everything they’d hoped for.  Of course, his memories—dulled by a few decades absence—had meant that there had been issues.  When he’d last been here, he remembered that phone booths had been at every corner, but now, there were wireless handheld phones _everywhere!_   He’d managed to get his hands on one from a pawn shop and then questioned the Artifice of the little thing, which had eaten up most of an afternoon in a journey of fascinated discovery. 

But at least they were well fed and housed.  Money looked—more or less—like he’d been used to, and it took only a minor illusion to mask a couple of leaves or some  bits of paper as the green bills he remembered.  Not that he went out of his way to defraud people… but he and Toothless had amused themselves by finding a few more predatory types and using them to ‘make change’.  That had been fun.  In addition, the ATMs he remembered from his earlier visits were still around—and while they were harder to convince than they’d been before, a nice chat with the stubborn if polite device usually ended with Hiccup pocketing a few more bills.  So they were renting a room using that cash, and because he couldn’t resist spoiling his best bud, Toothless was _wallowing_ in the amount of fresh fish he was getting, although Hiccup had had a hard time finding the Fish Market he remembered; they’d moved it to the Bronx!

Of course, burning through all of that magic had consequences, and Hiccup had to recharge.  But he’d found clubs like this, where the emotions flowed freely, and literally drank them in.  And they were so incredibly amazing; parties back in the Elsewhere could be passionate, for sure, but they were often very formal, structured.  But this…

Hiccup looked out across the dance floor, watching the mortals dance in time to the pulsing music, the air heady with their emotions, each with their own flavor as he unraveled a touch of this mortal magic and used it to recharge himself.  Joy, sharp and heady.  Lust, pounding in his veins like the quadruple shot espresso he’d tried the other day.  Even jealousy had its own distinct tang, like biting into a bitter fruit and feeling the sting of the acid.  Each of them offered up a flavor that he’d so rarely experienced before; in the Elsewhere, such feasts of energy were rare, carefully hoarded away… but here, it was given freely, for anyone to partake of. 

Of course, it would help if the fae in question was immune to the touch of iron, like Hiccup; the bars of the fence outside would burn his father with a touch, but Hiccup could touch and handle them with near-impunity. 

Speaking of other fae… He glanced up into the rafters, and spotted Toothless’ disguised form, the large cat also watching the crowd.  Toothless didn’t like coming in here as much, due to how he found the sound overwhelming, but this was the best way for them to recharge themselves that they’d found, especially since Hiccup had put the kibosh on dream-riding for the time being, much less using pacts.  Both of those would take too much time, and he was still exploring this bold, glorious world.  And at least Toothless was safe from harm under his disguise, although too much iron would degrade it—and then hurt him.

Another woman walked up to him, smiling invitingly at him.  “Want to dance?” she asked as he looked her over. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d been given such an invitation tonight, and since he was just about full of energy as it was, and didn’t need the focus to manage his intake…

“Sure!” he said cheerfully, looking her over with a matching smile.  She was _gorgeous;_ tall, blond, well built—he could see the muscles in her arms—and wearing a dress that made him question if a fae had been smuggling spidersilk and moonbeams from Elsewhere.  Intrigued, he took a sniff of her emotions… and found them hard to pick out in the crowded intensity of the room.  As they moved onto the dance floor, hand in hand and whirling about, he ignored the oddity and focused on the beauty he was dancing with as the beat of the music thrummed like a pulse, and her hands seemed chilly in his own.  His pulse thrummed in his ears in time with their moves, and a small circle opened around them as they jumped and ground together.  Focused on moving fluidly, years—decades—of dancing at court and of moving with Toothless as his bud had flown acrobatically through the sky all paying off, he noted that she was skilled as well, undoubtedly trained.  Around him, he could feel the emotions of the watchers, their emotions strong enough to be felt without effort; notes of sweet joy, tart envy, effervescent awe…

But there little from her.  She was curiously muted; if she wasn’t in his arms, he wouldn’t have been able to feel her at all among the crowd, like trying to pick out a candle in the light of the midday sun.  What little he was getting from her tasted stale and dry, nowhere near enough to actually draw in and charge himself, even if he had the spare focus to do so. 

But that barely crossed his thoughts as he instead did his best to be worthy of such a fine dance partner, their feet intermixing and moving in time as they moved through style after style.  She threw him a bit, tossing in some more aggressive moves that he wasn’t familiar with, moving as sinuously as a snake in his arms, but he adapted fluidly, drawing on some of his own training as a courtier in his father’s demesne, lifting her up and throwing her up in the air to brace on his stiffened arms. 

The dancers in the crowd had all paused and were watching the pair of them now;  by some unspoken agreement, they ramped up their display, the look in her eyes saying that she could go faster. 

He smirked in reply.  _Bring it._

Drawing on his magics, he brought fluidity to his limbs and what had been before turned out to have been just a warm-up.  Acrobatic tosses and kicks, sinuous waves, and that _dress_ of hers gave her enough freedom of motion to do standing splits, one foot on the ground and the other touching his shoulder or the back of her head.  He lifted her and spun on one foot, and the crowd applauded as they moved into a somersault, her landing first and then flipping him, both of them on their knees.  More acrobatics followed—flips, tosses, more somersaults—and Hiccup was feeling the intensity of their motion, even as he felt that she still hadn’t even broken into a sweat. 

_Well then._

But even as they danced, his heart pounding, looking into her blue eyes as if to communicate their next motion, he _still_ couldn’t get a read on her emotions.  Oh, there was excitement and surprise… but even when they finished to applause and the DJ’s congratulations, her chest heaving with deep breaths, it was like trying to watch the dance of flames under a wet blanket, even as he put in actual effort into trying to read her. 

But her eyes were wide and seemed to glow blue in the club’s lighting as they moved off the dance floor together, her arms wrapped around his chest and her head laying on his shoulder. The crowd moved back into the space they’d occupied, and she certainly _seemed_ excited and enthused, her tone breathless as she asked, “Where did you learn to dance like that?”

“Back home!  It’s very competitive there!” he replied with cheer.  “I’m not even the best dancer there!”

“Damn!” she replied cheerfully.  “But you were plenty good enough for me!”

“I’ll say.  Where did _you_ learn to dance like that?” he asked as they moved towards some of the booths that lined the back wall, her hand on his back.

“Lots and lots of practice,” she said, her eyes still seeming to glow with excitement… except that she wasn’t excited from what he could tell, not beyond that distant feeling of it.  It was so strange…

Well, for all he knew, it was something weird with him; he hadn’t taken in that much magic that often, after all.

They sat down, hands intermingled, and continued to chat.  He was new in town, she’d been here for nearly her whole life, he’d learned to dance based on current fads, she’d learned from experience, they each had preferred styles…

Her kiss took him almost by surprise, firm and commanding, and he reciprocated.  She worked down his jawline, nibbling as she went, and he gasped in pleasure; she definitely knew what she was doing…

Then…

_Pain._

Her teeth sank into his neck, and it was mingled pain and pleasure as he felt his blood start to flow.

On instinct and panic, he called down deep into his Wyrd and threw a mass of half-formed magic at her.  She rocked back, gasping, and he bolted from the table, feeling blood dribbling down his neck.

.o0O0o.

_What the HELL!?_

Astrid panted, slightly slumped over the table, her heart pounding, at… whatever the _hell_ had just happened.  They’d danced, and he’d been such an incredible partner that she’d needed to let herself slip a little bit and draw on her agility and speed.  Perhaps that had been reckless, but she hadn’t danced like that in… ever.  It had been _wonderful_ , and she’d been eager to taste him… 

But then when she’d started to feed, intending to go slowly and give him some pleasure—possibly as a prelude to taking him home and enjoying time with him more before calling him a cab and sending him home—he’d jerked in surprise... and _pain_. That alone wasn’t supposed to happen. The bite induced _pleasure_ in the person she was feeding on, not pain _,_ and most of the time, they didn’t even notice it beyond the feeling of a love bite _._ But he _had_ registered it, and then… he’d done _something!_   A crazed _mass_ of emotions and sensations and feelings and thoughts had seemed to crash into her, infusing into her, like getting hit by lightning.  But unlike the taser she’d been zapped with previously, instead of making her muscles contract painfully, this seemed to make her very _soul_ expand, even as her pulse pounded in her ears.

She paused and her eyes widened. 

Her heart was pounding. 

 _Her heart was pounding_.

She clasped her hands to her chest, and felt the thrum within. 

Oh.  Dear.  God.


	3. Chapter 3

Hiccup burst out of the club, his hand clasped to his bleeding neck, raggedly gasping as he staggered away and ducked down an alley. 

Ash and oak!  She’d been a vampire!  A _vampire!_   Of all the… he’d heard they’d existed, but to actually…

Oh, how cool was this!?  An honest-to-the-thorn _actual vampire!_   The things he could learn from—

He slapped his forehead with his free hand and leaned against the brick, still breathing heavily.  Okay, first things first… _Ow._   His neck had a pair of puncture wounds in it, and they were bleeding freely.  Taking a deep breath, he called on his Wyrd and his binding Contract with Spring, time of growth and rejuvenation.  In that moment, he asked for Its Aid in healing himself, offering a portion of energy from his Wyrd in compensation for Its effort, in accord with the ancient bargain to which he was signatory…

And It agreed. 

Having done this before, he knew what to expect when the rush of growth surged into his tissues, and it was an effort of will to guide it to where it would do the most good, healing his neck and his blood loss.  A handful of seconds later, he pulled his hand away from his neck, and then probed at where the wounds had been with his fingertips, finding unbroken skin. 

He breathed a sigh of relief.  The Contract would heal wounds of the body in himself and in others, sans those caused or contaminated by iron… and apparently would also heal wounds from vampire fangs as well.  Good to know…

But time was wasting.  The vampire girl might have run off already!

Turning back to the mouth of the alley, he pondered if he could get back into the club; he’d burned through a _lot_ of magic in the last few minutes, and needed to recharge anyway.  But there was also the issue of figuring out if he could get the blood out of his shirt and jacket with a bit more magic, otherwise, there was no way he was going to get past the door guard.

His train of thought was abruptly interrupted by an arm across his throat, shoving him up against the wall. 

“ _What did you do to me!?”_

_“Ack!”_ he replied as suavely as he could manage, and grabbed at her arm.

“Who… what… what are you!?” she demanded, sounding like she was about to sob or start laughing hysterically—and Hiccup’s eyes bulged as he realized that he could feel her emotions just as intensely as he could anyone else’s.  And she was about one loud noise away from either having a breakdown or going berserk. 

So, of _course,_ things got more complicated.

_[Put him down!]_

She turned and looked at Toothless, who was puffing his fur up and baring his fangs a few paces further down the alleyway. 

“Did… did the cat just _talk?”_ she demanded, looking back at him. 

_[Yes, I_ did, _and if you want to find out what_ other _tricks I have available, keep strangling my friend there!]_

With a gasp, Hiccup reached out and pulled at some of the emotions she had flaring up.  Unraveling them with as much care as he could manage, he drew them back inside himself, doing his best to give a light touch, given the circumstances and risks.  Normally, he would just harvest the emotional energy that spilled out from the person into the space around them, like he had back in the club.  The mundanes who produced it never even noticed, overflowing with energy as they were.  But it was possible to take _more,_ just _discouraged_ , due to the dangers, as the victim of such a drain could be harmed, sending them into an emotional slump, if not outright depression.  So it was in desperation that he pulled at more than the fury she was radiating, hoping to help calm her.  Of course, she was a vampire on top of that, so who knew what effects draining her emotional high might have? 

But it worked; he regained a bit of the magic he’d pumped into her in that panicked moment and she visibly calmed—and then looked at him.  “What did you just do!?” she demanded.

“I… I took some of it back!  But—”

“Who are you!?”

_[Put him down!]_

“Toothless, not helping!” Hiccup choked out.

Toothless scoffed.  _[Buddy, you’re getting strangled by a vampire against an alleyway wall.  The only reason I haven’t toasted her is because—]_

Hiccup twisted out of the vampire’s grip and rolled into a somersault before turning to face her.  “Okay!  Everyone, calm down!” he said, and then coughed as he stood up. 

Toothless came up next to him protectively, giving the vampire girl a stink-eye as she visibly fought to calm herself, gulping down huge breaths of air. 

He watched and thought as quickly as he could.  He had no idea what sorts of magics _she_ had, and he was wracking his brains trying to determine possibilities.  Finally, though, she asked, much more quietly, “Who are you, and what did you do to me?  Are you a wizard?  Is that why your cat can talk?”

“Wait, there are wizards?” Hiccup asked eagerly, and then paused as both she and Toothless gave him irritated looks.  “Uh… no.  I’m not a wizard.”

“Then who… _what_ are you?”

Hiccup shared a look with Toothless. 

_[That offer of toasting her is still open.]_

“No…” Hiccup said slowly as the vampire girl tensed.  “I’d really rather not.”  He looked back at her.  “Look.  Can I ask how I can call you, and I’ll tell you what my name is in exchange?”

She bit her lip and said, “You can call me Astrid.”

Hiccup nodded.  While he didn’t act like that sort of fae, he’d still worded his question carefully; asking ‘ _Can I have your name?_ ’ in the Elsewhere could get _disturbingly_ literal.  “You can call me Hiccup.”

She snorted.

“I know, I know.  Great name, but parents say that it can help ward off gnomes and trolls.”  Not that it did; otherwise he would have had a much more peaceful childhood.

“So… what _are_ you, Hiccup?  And Toothless, here?”

_[Oh… Hic, you_ really _need to work on that mouth of yours!]_

Hiccup looked into her eyes—and then, remembering that was a less than stellar idea when dealing with a vampire, looked away, and then back to her, settling on her chest as a compromise.  It was at least a very pretty compromise.  “That’s worth a fair bit.  But I already know that you’re a vampire—”

She scowled.  “Seems like you should tell me then, just to even the scales.  And my eyes are up here.”

“Yeah, I’d rather not get hypnotized, thank you,” he snarked.  “Although they’re very nice… _eyes.”_

With a scoff, she crossed her arms over her chest.  “Look, I just want to know what it is you did.  Can we start there?”

“Sure.  Someone bit me, it hurt, I freaked, threw together a half-formed glamour and kinda shoved it in your face before booking it.”

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and said softly, “Look.  Hiccup.  I’m sorry that I hurt you.  Usually, it doesn’t hurt at all.  But…”  She let the breath out in a sigh.  “Can I show you something?”

_[Boy, we’re getting all of the straight lines tonight!]_

She looked at Toothless and rolled her eyes.  “How is the cat _talking?_ ”

“How about we share _that_ after we have a little bit more trust going on?” Hiccup said.  “I mean, as the guy with a bloody shirt here, I think that I have the right to ask that.”

She nodded.  “Fair.”  She put her arms behind her back.  “If you can quit it with the sophomoric jokes, come here.”

Sharing a dubious look with Toothless, Hiccup stepped forward to within arm’s reach of Astrid.

She leaned her head back, exposing her neck.  “Feel my pulse.”

Confused but going with it, he reached over and put two fingers on the side of her neck, feeling a pulse underneath them.  “Okay… so what’s the big deal?”

She tilted her head back down.  “My heart hasn’t beaten since the nineteen forties,” she said looking him in the eye.  “Until tonight.  Until _you_ and whatever it was you did!”

“Wait, did I _cure_ your vampirism?” he asked, shocked.

_[Oak and ash, Hiccup, can you go_ anywhere _without breaking shit?]_

She shook her head.  “No… I don’t think so.  I still have… everything else.  But my _heart is **beating.**_   And I want to know what you did to me.”

Hiccup looked into her eyes and felt—carefully—for what she was feeling.  Scared, euphoric, shocked, curious…

He shook his head.  “I don’t know.  I did it on reflex.”  Taking a deep breath, he decided to extend the olive branch.  “But I’m willing to try to find out.”

She looked at him, eyes shining.  “You are?”

He nodded.  “But in exchange… well, I told you inside that I’m new to the city.  I’m also just generally… _new._   So can you show a new guy around?”

She looked at him and nodded slowly.  “I can do that.”  She took another deep breath and nodded again, much more confidently.  “Well, shall we get out of the alleyway before someone comes along and asks questions?”

“That sounds like a great idea,” he said. 

She smiled slightly.  “I know just the place to go.  Nobody asks questions and weirdness is just how it is.”

 

.o0O0o.

Astrid sat across from ‘Hiccup’ in the Waffle House’s booth, having bought a bunch of dinner items for them.  From the staff’s perspective, she looked like just another high club-girl going on an eating binge. 

But it was all for Hiccup and his _talking cat,_ neither of whom could really talk to the staff, being a cat and a guy who looked like he’d had a mistake with the fake Halloween blood, although he’d zipped up his jacket to cover it _._   She couldn’t eat any of it.

As she watched them dig in—the Waffle House staff more or less ignoring them, as they were undoubtedly not the weirdest thing they’d seen tonight—she tried to manage her racing thoughts.  Her heart was beating, her emotions were all over the place, and the guy responsible for it was both _cute_ and had a _talking cat_ the size of a baby lion.  Oh, and he’d somehow managed to heal his neck without her having licked the wounds closed, another bit of weirdness.  He’d clearly bled—she could still smell his shirt—but…

God, what _was_ he?

And she knew that buying them the food was a peace offering.  An accepted one, it seemed, as Hiccup took a big bite of his burger and Toothless attacked his steak that she’d carefully put on the seat. 

By the time half the burger was gone, she felt calm enough to continue on.  “So… how did you heal…?” she motioned to her neck.

“Magic,” he said through his mouthful. 

“Well, that’s informative,” she huffed. 

“Astrid, I just met you.  And while you’re an _awesome_ dance partner, and I’d love to get to know you better, the next thing you did was try to _eat me._ ”

“Just a nibble,” she said softly.

Both he and his cat gave her deadpan looks. 

“I _am_ sorry, all right?” she said.  “I try to take sips, though, not gulps!” 

“Yeah, well, you can understand my surprise, right?” he rebutted. 

She shrugged sheepishly.  “I can.  But from mine, you were just another guy that I was going to take a little bit of blood from and have a good night with.  I had no idea that it would actually _hurt_ you.”

He quirked an eyebrow and then nodded.  “How much do you take?”

“A little.  Most people can give up to a pint of blood without even noticing, and I don’t like _chugging,_ thank you.  I’d take a swallow and close you back up.  And,” she glanced down at her hands, feeling a blush come naturally that wouldn’t have been _possible_ a few hours ago without her forcing it, “to be honest, I was _really_ considering taking you home and to bed for the rest of the night after _that_ dance.”

Toothless started to snicker, only to jump as Hiccup tossed a hash brown at the cat. 

_[Hey!]_

“Don’t laugh.  We’re trying to build a rapport here, you useless… bag of fur.”

_[I’m only wearing this fur coat because it was your idea!]_

Astrid watched the pair of them for a moment before looking away.  Her heart was beating, her body temperature was normal… but she was still a _vampire._   She had what limited powers she’d learned, along with her strength and speed, and her senses were as sharp as ever…

But her emotions were all over the place, burning with an intensity she hadn’t felt in decades, and _her heart was beating._   Also, she felt a sharp pain in her belly, and realized that she was _hungry._

Suddenly wondering if her heart was the only thing back in operating order, she reached over and stole one of Hiccup’s hash browns.

Holding it in her hands, she eyed it nervously as Hiccup looked at her curiously.  The last time—the last _several_ times—she’d tried eating solid food, she’d thrown it up again within a matter of minutes, no matter how much she’d tried, with all of her will, to _keep_ it down. 

But her heart hadn’t been _beating_ then.

So she dipped it in ketchup and popped it in her mouth.

She gave a full-bodied _moan_ as the salt and grease and vinegar seemed to explode with flavor, and whined as she chewed— _chewed!_ —for the first time in over ten years.  It was enough to almost make her cry.

Scratch that, she _was_ crying.

“Astrid… are you okay?”

“Hiccup… I’m… I’m over a hundred years old.  I haven’t eaten solid food without having to force it since Reagan was in office.  _Thank you,”_ she said, heartfelt.  Literally.  She wiped at her eyes and sniffed.

“Oh.  Um.  Reagan… that was… the senile one, right?”

She snickered.  “Yes, that one.”  She eyed him.  “How old are you?—generally speaking,” she added with haste.  “You don’t need to give me an exact date.  I was just wondering if I’m the younger or older one here.”

He shrugged.  “We’re about the same age.  But I haven’t been here since you last had solid food, by the sound of it.”

She winced.  “Hence your outfit being so out of date?”

He gave another shrug.  “Yep.  My mother thought it was funny too.”

“Well, I’ll give you the grand tour and get you settled in then.  Um… do you have a phone number?  Or is that something you need help being brought up to speed on?”

“I could use some help, yeah.  I got my hands on a smartphone last week from a pawn shop—”

_[And he spent the whole damn day poking at it and asking it questions,]_ Toothless groused, licking the steak’s t-bone clean of meat. 

Astrid had no idea what the significance of that was, but nodded and went along with it.

“So I understand how they work a bit,” Hiccup said, eating his salad, “but I don’t have one of my own that can make calls.”

She nodded, and, eyeing his food, she questioned her stomach.  

No complaints from down there.  As far as she could tell, it was in functioning order again. 

Dear god.

Part of her was considering getting a burger of her own, but instead she took a deep breath to try to manage the emotional tightness in her chest, and she continued, “Well, after we’re done here, I think we can get you a prepaid phone, although it’s late and I don’t know if any of the stores that sell them will be open.  Unless…”

“Unless?” he asked as she trailed off.

She took another deep breath, her emotions roiling.  “I’d offer my hospitality to you.”

_[Said the spider to the fly.]_

Hiccup, ignoring the cat, looked her over and drummed his fingers on the table.  “I know what that means for my people.  What does it mean for yours?”

“Well, you’d be my guest, so I’d be bound to defend and protect you to the best of my ability for the next three nights at a minimum.  You, and Toothless I suppose, would be under the rules of a guest, and refrain from fighting with my household—which is me and my… partner, Camicazi—and any other guests, not that I have any.  After three nights are up, I can ask you to leave if I feel it’s warranted, but…” she trailed off.

“You want to know what I did, and how long it lasts and all that,” Hiccup said shrewdly.  “And while you could _call_ me with a new phone, you’d feel ever so much better about me being where you can see me.”

She winced.  “More or less.  There’s also one other factor.”

“Oh?”

“There are laws of secrecy that govern my kind,” she said carefully.  “Avoiding obvious displays of what we can do and all that in front of mortals.  And while I don’t know if you have the same sorts of rules, wherever you come from, but if you’re _that_ out of date with modern social attitudes, giving you _my_ protection and showing you how to blend in can only make me safer.”

_[And what sorts of guarantees do we have against you trying to make another midnight snack out of Hiccup?]_

She looked at the cat.  “Are you his bodyguard?”

_[More or less.]_

“Mostly less,” Hiccup commented, and got smacked by the cat’s tail in response.

She snorted.  “Quite the double act, you two.”  She fiddled with one of the napkins, just to give her hands something to do.  “But in answer to your question, Toothless, there’s you, there’s my own interest in learning what Hiccup _did,_ and my own honor.”

The cat looked at her and seemed to consider.  _[I could add my own guarantee to that.]_

“Oh?” Astrid responded, trying to ignore the fact that she was _talking to a cat._

“Toothless…” Hiccup said warningly. 

_[What?]_

“I know what you’re planning, and that’s not fair to just drop on the poor woman.”

_[Neither is suddenly taking a bite out of your neck, bud!]_

Hiccup scowled and Astrid nodded.  “He’s got a point, Hiccup.  You know practically nothing about me.  Unless the guarantee involves something grotesque, I think it’s fair for him to suggest something.”

_[All right then.  Astrid the Vampire, do you swear by whatever you hold dear and holy that for the next three nights, you and your household will grant the two individuals you know as Hiccup and Toothless your home’s hospitality, defending and protecting us to the best of your ability until the time is up or we ourselves violate the bounds of being good guests?  And in return, we will behave to the best of our own ability to be good guests in your home?]_

Hiccup held out his hand in a pausing motion.  “Hang on.  Before you answer that, Astrid, know that this is _magic._   If you break it, there will be sanctions levied against you.”

She nodded.  “I have no intentions of breaking it.  I agree.”

_[Very well then!]_

She felt _something_ in that moment, like a subsonic rumble, and the cat seemed to be very satisfied with himself, licking at his paws. 

“You know, you didn’t have to do that,” Hiccup said to her.  “I would have trusted you.”

“Yeah, well, this way your protector here is mollified,” she said.  “So…”

“So?”

“Before we go to my place, two things.  Second, I _do_ want to check on getting you a phone…”

“And first?”

She rose and pulled out her purse.  “I want a burger like you can’t _believe.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go with the end of Episode 1. More will be coming as I complete future episodes; I plan on finishing a complete ep in drafts and then posting the chapters once per week after that.


End file.
